Dear Hannah,
As I’m writing this, I’m sitting in Hendrika’s hammock, facing the playground surrounded by the painted tires, and watching the kids play.
It’s nearing 4:30 in the afternoon, and the wind is starting to pick up, bringing with it cooling relief from the insane Swazi heat.
Do you remember how hot it truly was in Swazi?
I hope you never forget.
I know you’re dealing with a lot right now. You were dealing with a lot 3 and a half months ago when you wrote this letter, but now that you’re going home, I’m almost positive you’ve begun to panic.
Scratch that. You’re definitely panicking.
After 11 months of racing around the world, you’re about to put the world behind you and reenter America.
America. The “Big A”
Over the past year, you’ve traveled through a heavy cycle of finding your nationality to be a blessing, a gift, a hideous privilege, a curse, an embarrassment and even a dirty word, but then back again to be a blessing, even if it is a blessing weighted down by the starkness of reality.
I’m going to take a wild guess here and say you’re probably experiencing mixed feelings about your re-entry.
Trust me. Remember how you realized, smack-dab in the middle of month 7, that you were actually terrified of going home?
It’s okay to be afraid of going home.
Home isn’t ever going to be the same as it once was, and that’s okay. A lot has changed while you’ve been away.
Babies were born to dear friends, your best friend got married, people you love very much got very sick, your parents moved to a new house, engagements, big moves, career and life changes, all of those things happened.
I know it seems like a lot, and it’s super overwhelming to process re-entering into all of that, but please don’t forget that it’s okay for all of that to have changed, because you have changed too.
Babe. Don’t forget to celebrate the ways you have changed.
Don’t forget to tell people how you’ve changed.
Don’t forget to be gracious when people expect you to be the same, and get upset when they find out you’re not.
There’s a lot I want to remind you not to forget, and so I’d like to write a list (From me to you, wink) of things to remember during month 11, before you go home.
1) Don’t forget to breathe. This is important. “Let it out and let it in.”
2) Don’t forget the way the stars shine so incredibly bright over Africa at night, and don’t forget how witnessing their shine makes you feel so close to the Lord as you stare up at the night sky.
3) Don’t forget to let people love you, even when you’re anxious, even when you’re overwhelmed, or sad, or even when their attention is the last thing you want. Let them in, babe.
4) Don’t forget how brave you are.
5) Don’t forget how it felt to stare your truest love in the face and to tell it with all the conviction in your heart that you love the Lord more.
6) Don’t ever forget what you’ve seen.
7) Don’t forget to keep from hiding your face when you’re anxious.
8) Don’t forget to thank the Lord every moment for all the things He gives you, every day.
9) Don’t forget to stop and look at the insane beauty that surrounds you everywhere.
10) Don’t forget to feel deeply.
11) Don’t forget your “Here/There” statement. Here is where you started: “Weeping may tarry the night,” and There is where you’re going: “Repeat the sounding joy.” Don’t forget to repeat the sounding joy.
Most importantly, don’t forget to celebrate. Everything, anything, everyone, anyone. Life is made up of billions of tiny miracles, and miracles should always be celebrated.
You can do this. I can do this.
Until then,
Love from month 7 you
